


Ambitus

by MsOzma, sonicSymphony, stellaver



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dream Bubbles, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 05:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2098020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsOzma/pseuds/MsOzma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicSymphony/pseuds/sonicSymphony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaver/pseuds/stellaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Those who don't know history are destined to repeat it." Eridan has heard that phrase over and over again throughout his life (and death), but honestly, he knows enough history to know it's complete crap. He has a chance to change things, so he's going to damn well try.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ambitus

**Author's Note:**

> Team Eridan<>Feferi's entry for Main Round 2! The illustrations were done by Lits; the fic was written by MsOzma, sonicSymphony, and Stellaver.

When you first appeared in the dream bubbles, you avoided everyone. You were still shaking off a bitter rage, and even in your stupor you knew the tremors of your hands and the haziness of your thoughts meant you were still dangerous. So you pulled together a memory of your shipwreck hive on its lonely island, and once you understood you were even more isolated there than you’d ever been, your anger began to simmer down into something lonely and aching.

The feeling of isolation never really left, even when another dream bubble rubbed against yours, because no one ever sought you out until today, though you didn't know that when you were ruminating dourly in the bath.

 

After putting on some clothes, you decide to head down to the food preparation block. You let out an embarrassing shriek when you turn on the light and see Aradia Megido sitting on the counter.

“Whoops!” she says, holding back laughter. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You take in her fancy god tier outfit, pretending not to be jealous of her very  _alive_  eyes. Gathering your wits, you say, “Then maybe you shouldn’t come into people’s hives without warnin’, did you ever think of that? And what are you even  _doing_  here?”

Shrugging, she says, “I try to check up on you alpha-timeline guys.”

Your throat dries up with the implications of that. You blurt out, “Have you seen Fef lately?”

“Last time I saw her, she was leaving our plundering party with Sollux and Nepeta, but that was a while ago. So what have  _you_  been up to?”

Straightening, you defensively raise your chin. “Not much. Just… thinkin’. There’s not much to do around here. Not all of us have shiny god tier powers that let us move around all the time; this one bubble is what I’ve got.”

“That’s not exactly  _true_ ,” she says slowly, thinking something over.

Shooting her a look that makes lowbloods wet themselves, you deadpan, “If there’s a way that I don’t have to sit here stagnating for the rest of my damned existence, please do elaborate.”

Aradia remains infuriatingly unimpressed. She gives you a glance that’s almost  _pitying_  before explaining, “Dream bubbles are made from memories. The one you live in is your hive because that’s where you spent most of your life, so it was only natural that the bubble would conform to it. However, there are ways to manipulate the dream bubble to what you want it to be, and sometimes you can even replay the memories that took place there, if you try hard enough. And if you  _really_  want to have some fun, you can mix things up and change how you behaved in the memory.”

“It sounds complicated,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you tried before?”

“In my spare time,” she says, and you think the concept of someone like her—still so full of life and ready to topple the world—having free time is weird. “If you rewrite the memory enough, you can spawn a doomed timeline.”

“Wait,” you say, cutting her off before she can move away from that point. “What?”

“Dream bubbles didn’t just randomly appear,” she clarifies, twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. “They’re still connected to those who created them. Any changes that happen in memories become whispers in the void from which they were spawned, and if they’re strong enough, they’ll diverge from the point of the alpha universe and create a new one. That’s why there are so many doomed timelines.”

You take a moment to think, and Aradia shuts up. Eventually, you swallow and venture, “Could I create a timeline where I never killed Fef?”

She pauses, biting her lower lip as her brow crinkles. “ _Maybe?_  It would never be  _you_  that lives through it, of course. You’d only be creating other doomed Eridans and Feferis that  _could_  live, but it wouldn’t matter in the long run because of the whole ‘doomed’ thing.”

“But I can make us happy,” you realize. “I can make it right.”

“Just remember what you’re messing with,” Aradia warns. “Feferi influenced the creation of the dream bubbles. She knows them better than almost anyone, and she’d probably find out if you started messing with memories that also belong to  _her_. Would she be pleased with your meddling?”

You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “She… she’d have to understand why I’m doing it.” Your quiet, almost meek voice tastes like weakness on your tongue. Clenching your jaw, you try to draw upon old arrogance. “I doubt she could hate me for trying to fix things.”

Unconcerned, Aradia instructs, “Bring up a memory and imagine it’s happening now, and once your consciousness takes the place of your younger self’s, you’ll be able to do what you please. If you’re convincing enough, the thread of change you create could become reality somewhere else, and it will undoubtedly go down in flames. You’re going to get caught in a cycle of going back again and again, and nothing will be solved. What you  _should_  do is apologize to her and get back in the game. Dying doesn’t mean you’re no longer a player. Vriska is—”

“I don’t give a flyin’  _fuck_  about Vris,” you snap, fins flaring. “I care about  _Fef_. So why don’t you leave me alone and let me get started, because I sure as hell don’t want to take  _you_  with me when I’m goin’ through my memories.”

“You’re not doing this for her,” she says softly, and anger builds within you, “you’re doing this for yourself, and it’s  _still_  not going to help.” Before you can muster a response, she says, “Goodbye, Eridan.” When you blink, she’s gone.

The moment you’re alone, you deflate, pulling out a chair and slumping into it. With your head in your hands, you contemplate where to start. You met Fef when you were two, which leaves a lot of possible time periods for you to drop in.

Finally, you decide on a memory. Setting your jaw, you recreate the scene.

It isn’t hard, since it took place in your hive. It was in your respiteblock, and you and Fef were curled up in your recuperacoon, which was on its warmest setting. Outside, a cyclone raged, tearing at the wooden hull of your ship and making everything creak and shake. Fef had come to you because her hive was susceptible to rough currents; she was safer here.

Well, initially; you peer into the recuperacoon and see the two sleeping trolls (it’s weird seeing yourself, sweeps younger and almost  _innocent_ ) and know you’re moments away from waking and setting off a huge fight, then spending the rest of the storm camped out in two separate rooms.

You don’t want that to happen this time. Squeezing your eyes shut and focusing, you try to plop yourself into your younger mind, and when you open your eyes, you’re staring at the wall of your recuperacoon with a warm body pressed against your back. Carefully, you roll over in the sopor. The movement is clumsy, and you end up having to grab Fef to avoid sinking. Waking up, she makes a groggy sound, rubbing her eyes tiredly. “Eridan, what?”

“Sorry,” you say, and you sound so  _young_. “I just…” You think of trying something flushed, like you did when you were really experiencing this, but your chest pulls and you remember that you were her  _moirail_ , and that’s how it should’ve stayed. There are a lot less partner homicides in moirallegiances when compared to matespritships, after all. “I wanted to make sure the cyclone wasn’t scaring you.”

She squints at you, then paps your face. The gesture startles you, and you blink. “Sealy buoy,” she giggles. You expect her to say something else, but she just brings you closer and nuzzles into your chest before going back to sleep.

There. No big fight. You managed to avoid your first almost-breakup by acting like her moirail for once. Satisfied, you slip out of your younger self’s consciousness and leave him be. You wonder if your own mess of confused feelings had any impact on him. Maybe he’d be able to flip pale again.

When you appear in your block, you’re not alone. “Why are you  _back_?” you hiss.

“I can go between bubbles at will,” Aradia says, shrugging. “Since you’re set on messing with your timeline, I thought I’d show you the results.”

You appraise her with narrowed eyes. “You said you  _do_  this sort of thing,” you say, your fins folding back. “Why is it wrong when  _I_  do it?”

“Because you’re actually trying to  _change_  things, and you’re going to drive yourself crazy,” she says. “I do it for fun. Now do you want to see what happened or not?”

“Fine.”

She loops her arm through yours, and then you’re no longer in your hive. You’re floating above the ominous streets of the Land of Wrath and Angels.

Shuddering, you try to find the Crosshairs in your sylladex, but then you remember you’re dead and it doesn’t matter. When you give Aradia a questioning look, she just nods to something below you. Alternate-you and Fef are fighting your consorts, and their numbers are  _overwhelming_ , you realize with dread.

You can only watch as Fef is murdered when she tries to protect you from one of them, and not-quite-you soon follows.

Aradia brings you back to your hive after you witness the carnage. She sits you down in a chair and you don’t speak for a long time, breathing hard with your head in your hands. When you finally look up, she’s sitting on the table, watching you. Swallowing, you say, “I have to try again.”

Her expression doesn’t change. She nods once in acceptance before she’s gone yet again.

Your new quest is like a morose FLARP campaign, but with a goal that’s infinitely more important than some shitty gold and a false feeling of success. You consider one of  _those_  memories, with Fef telling you about some lootable shipwreck she found, but you decide against it. You were more preoccupied with your blossoming rivalry.

Then it hits you.

The memory is simple to conjure, taking place in your hive just before the game started. Past-you bursts into your respiteblock. Following him, you realize depressingly, is Skyhorse, who floats near the door.

You tear your eyes away from your lusus, and turn instead to watch past-you. It’s striking how much younger he seems, lacking a few inches you have as he props his Crosshairs against the wall and takes a seat at his husktop.

Just like last time, you focus on putting yourself in your six-sweep-old mind, and once again you open your eyes to look upon a Trollian window.

cuttlefishCuller [CC] began trolling caligulasAquarium [CA]

CA: fef  
CA: hey  
CC: ?  
CA: glub  
CC: Glub glub!  
CA: hm  
CC: W)(at is it!!!  
CA: wwhat  
CC: I am wondering if you can forego t)(e exaggerated emotional t)(eatrics for once and actually tell me w)(at’s on your mind!  
CA: you knoww wwhat  
CA: youre right  
CA: i realize that ivve been really stressin you out lately  
CA: i wwanted to say that im sorry  
CC: O)(…  
CC: Well, you’re not wrong!  
CC: I t)(ink I s)(ould say sorry too! I’ve been glubbing at you for a lot of little t)(ings, but t)(ey’ve been really G-ETTING to me.  
CA: all the things i knoww  
CA: me bein a shit and your lusus dyin and stuff  
CC: ?  
CA: you dont need to be sorry fef its all my fault  
CA: ivve been so vvitriolic that it wwas poisonin our moirallegiance  
CA: i wwant to change that  
CC: Do you reely?  
CA: yeah reely  
CA: wwe alwways said that wwe wwere the palest of pals  
CA: i wwant to make that true

You can’t restrain the satisfied smile that sneaks onto your face as you watch the rest of the conversation unfold. Everything’s put out in the open, thoughts and feelings and the sums of both your thinkpans. It was just how a moirallegiance should be.

You’re about to pull out of your younger self’s mind when she messages you again.

CC: --Eridan, I’m really )(appy you wanted to talk, but I )(AV-E to ask.  
CC: W)(at was t)(at stuff about Gl’bgolyb dying?  
CA: you knoww  
CA: you told me that she wwhispered to you and said shed die  
CC: I never told you t)(at.  
CC: S)(e never told me anyt)(ing of t)(e sort!  
CA: really  
CC: Y-ES!

Odd, admittedly. She told you herself that the devilbeast said she and all of your lusii would die in the process of entering the game. You don’t think much of it, chalking it up to a subconscious wish that your lusii never died and that influenced the memory.

As you retreat from the conscious of the new doomed Eridan, you wonder briefly if there could be any repercussions of that. Sollux would never die, Fef would never have to kiss him…

Yes, good.

As expected, Aradia appears on your couch with a grim light in her eyes. She tells you that you managed to pull yourself into a preexisting doomed timeline—one where Karkat didn't run the virus that killed your lusii. Taking your hand, she shows you the results: without his lusus' death, Gamzee went into a premature rage and killed every single one of you, save for Aradia. It makes you feel sick to see this timeline's Feferi and Eridan bludgeoned almost beyond recognition.

You tell Aradia you'll find your own way home. She doesn’t look convinced, but she reluctantly leaves you in a nightmare you couldn’t help. Of course it’s just your luck that you happened upon the one timeline you personally didn’t fuck up. You get to your feet, casting one last look at it, and then the memory fades.

With Gamzee’s butchery fresh in your mind, you realize there’s only one option left. You bring up the memory you’ve tried to avoid since your first death…

The one where you killed her.

You conjure in your mind the loud footsteps and squeaks of your sneakers reverberating off steel walls. You focus, imagining yourself being the one to walk in those sneakers.

“You shouldn’t do this.”

Aradia’s voice breaks your concentration, and you groan in displeasure. “I have a fuckin’ obligation to at least  _try_.”

“Perhaps,” she responds. “But it would merely create a timeline that couldn’t exist.”

You turn to face her, blood rising in your cheeks from anger. “Are you sayin’ I’m  _meant_  to be some goddamn villain? That I’m  _meant_  to be nothin’ but a murderer!? That I’m meant to be  _her_  murderer!? That I have  _no right_  to make things different!?  _Is_  that  _what you’re fucking telling me_!?”

You wait for her response, thinking about her words from the beginning—how you’ve always been doing this for no one but yourself. (She’s not exactly  _wrong_.) But she simply stares at you, as if she knows you understanding that will not stop you.

With a flap of her wings she’s gone, and you turn your back, focusing on the task at hand.

Footsteps. The transportalizer. You, armed with the wand Kan made you. You focus, trying to imagine how the wood felt as you ran your thumb on its handle, how your sneakers dragged upon the floor, you determining what to do.

_No_ , you stop yourself.

You halt before the transportalizer, contemplating your actions.

_Go without her_ , you think.  _See Jack on your own. Convince him first._

With some hesitation, you slowly start to turn around. You feel lost without Fef, but you march away regardless.

You pull yourself out of the memory, allowing your present self to watch him leave. This time, you’re certain Fef’s blood won’t be on your hands. You return to your dream bubble and find Ara standing on the beach. You look expectantly at her, prepared to have her tell you everything went fine.

Not even you understand why you’re surprised when she shakes her head.

“No!” you protest. “It was  _right_  this time! I—”

She silences you with a glance and wordlessly takes your hand, summoning the dream bubble of the timeline you just created.

You walked away. The events that marked you for death-by-chainsaw never happened. You used your newly-found powers to transport yourself in a flash of white to Jack’s location. When you saw what you assumed was the Lord of Angels, you prepared to bow before him.

You never even got to kneel.

His blade ripped through your torso and you fell, writhing as he watched you bleed out on the floor. As you realized with horror what he was going to do, he took your cape and left.

You don’t need or want to know what happens next in this memory, but Ara doesn’t end it. He ran rampant throughout the meteor, leaving absolute carnage. Your friends die, one by one...

Until it’s just Fef, being stabbed mercilessly.

“How…?” she questioned, coughing blood as she spoke. You want to turn away, to tell yourself this didn’t—no,  _couldn’t_  happen.

Jack threw your blood-soaked cape at her, and her eyes widened.

“You… _krilled_  him too?”

Her fists are clenched in rage. Rage at your death. Rage you know she didn’t need to feel. “ _NO_!” she shrieks in what is her last outburst, before his blade plunges through her a final time and she falls silent.

Aradia silently takes you out of the nightmare and back to your dream. Your fists unclench as you fall to your knees and start sobbing into your hands.

She  _trusted_  you, and you toyed with her life, and to what, make yourself feel less guilty? Make her  _red_  for you?

“Will you try again?” Aradia asks.

You shake your head, lurching with sobs. You  _deserve_  to be Fef’s killer, and she deserves  _so much better_.

You hardly notice Aradia leave, but you’re glad for it. You’ve earned every scrap of pain and solitude the universe conspires to hand you because you’ve caused the death of the only troll you’re sure you care about, and she  _still_  tried to fight for you.

You know then you’re as pale as pearls for her; you also realize then that you’ll never deserve her.

Wails of sorrow continue for an incalculable amount of time, until finally your body gives out, too tired to let out even a whimper. With nothing but your empty tear ducts, you fade into peaceful oblivion on the floor of your respiteblock.

When you awaken, you’re unsurprised to find no one there, but unlike before, you finally understand why you need to be isolated. You’re dangerous, and the only person who could pacify you is someone you need to stay away from.

Rubbing your eyes, you get up. Before you can get your senses in check, you hear a throat being cleared.

Your eyes snap towards the source of the sound, and your mind can hardly comprehend the figure standing there. You begin to form her name on your lips when she does something you should’ve seen coming.

Fef punches you square in the face, knocking you back on the floor with a thud.

“ _Fffffuck_!” you growl in pain. Holding your cheek, you prop yourself up, glaring at the figure before you. “What was that for!?”

“Do I  _reel-y_  need to tell you, Eridan!?” she yells, white eyes glaring you down. That’s enough for you to stay silent; you’re the reason her eyes are blank. She has every reason to want to hurt you irreparably.

As you look away from her, shame and guilt replacing the anger that was rising within you, you brace yourself for more punches.

“Did you  _sea-riously_  think that I wouldn’t have been able to find out what you’re doing?”

You look up at her, surprised to not feel more blows.

At your confused stare, she deadpans a look at you. “The  _memories_.  _You_  altered them and changed the timeline.” Gulp. “I’m the reason these dream bubbles even  _exist_ ,” she continues, and Aradia was really spot-on with her prediction, “you can’t  _conch-estly_  think I wouldn’t have found out!”

Your eyes flit away from her again, guilty at her knowing you’ve been playing with her life. You feel her grip your arm and yank you to face her, now kneeling over you, teeth clenched in rage.

“ _Why_?” she seethes. “ _Why_  did you do this?”

As the girl you care for and have killed many times in different ways glares at you with murder in her eyes, you do the only sensible thing.

You start crying again.

“I…” you begin, sniffling. “ _I didn’t wanna be your murderer, Fef!_ ”

In the past, you imagine her eyes would’ve softened. But this time—after all you’ve done—her eyes remain as hardened as ever.

“I wanted to  _change_  things,” you continue, trying and failing to swallow your tears because you know you have no  _right_  to be crying. “I wanted to make it so I never killed you, but—”

“ _But_?” Fef interrupts. “But  _nothing_! You should know just as well as anyone that altering the timeline doesn’t stop our deaths from happening! No matter what,  _we always DIE_.”

“I know that now,” you say, tears still streaming down your face. “And I also know no matter what I do, I’ll  _always_  be the villain.”

Fef’s eyes don’t so much soften as they do become wider with intrigue.

“I’m fuckin’  _dangerous_ ,” you continue with sobs. “You always used to say it, but now I actually  _understand_. I’m dangerous, and I don’t deserve a moirail as good as you to stop me…and I’ll always be sorry for never realizing it ‘til now.”

This time, Fef’s eyes  _do_  soften. With a sigh, she releases your arm from her grip, and takes a seat beside you, making sure not to look at you.

“All you do is  _carp_ ,” she murmurs. “You might be the most self-pitying moron I know.” She glares at you for a moment, then looks away again. “And you  _are_  a moron, Eridan. I didn’t die in those timelines because of  _you. Especially_  not the one with Gamzee.”

You’re about to protest, but she raises a hand to stop you. “I died against the angels because  _I_  wanted to kelp you. And Jack…yes, you sent him our way, but you were stupid enough to even think of switching sides. You couldn’t have guessed he would find and slaughter us.”

She finally turns to face you, no longer angry. Before you’re fully aware of what she’s doing, you suddenly feel her hand pull your head toward her own, lightly butting them together.

“But you’re right about one thing,” she continues. “You’re  _dangerous_.”

Your tears have since stopped and they threaten to pour again, before you feel her free hand pap your chest.

“And you must be  _really_  stupid to think I’d have a clear conscience leaving you to your own devices.”

“But,” you begin with a lump in your throat. “But how can I make things right? I don’t—”

“That’s just it,” she says. “You  _don’t_. You let things happen the way they should. You have to accept your past— _really_  accept it—and learn from it.”

Her hand moves from your chest, and you see forms a fist. For a brief moment you think she’s going to punch you again, but as it hangs there, you realize what she wants.

_Fist bump._

“But you don’t have to be alone,” she smiles.

You bump her back and wrap each other in a powerful embrace, tears streaming as you say what you should have said and meant thousands of times before: “Pale for you, Fef.”

Outside of a porthole, Aradia smiles and gives you a thumbs up before she disappears.

 


End file.
